Animal I have become
by CacoPhoniA
Summary: Saix realizes what he has become, when one night he meets his Somebody, Isa.


A/N: Ah, once again procrastinating on a story, but oh well. I like to watch clips from KH: BBS and recently I found the one where Ventus meets Lea and Isa. I found it particularly interesting because of Isa. It makes me wonder what made Saix go all dark when he was a cool kid like that... Oh well...  
>I'm making this fic on if Saix happened to meet his Other, when Isa was younger. Now, please don't judge me, for this is really out of my range. I'm going to try to keep Saix as in-character as possible, as well as Isa, but it is going to be a bit hard... Saix is definitely hard one to crack, if you know what I mean.<br>Well, I need a challenge. :D My brain has been dead, so it needs to think some more.

0-0-0

Tonight I lay in the plain bed, like the night before, and the night before. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, like every night. I don't try to sleep, it's only a matter of waiting, and I know that. One cannot make oneself "fall" asleep. Eventually fatigue falls over me, and my eyes close; I sleep then.  
>I am not expecting dreams, or waking up in the middle of the night, unless of course, the moon is full. No, tonight I just expect everything to be the way it's supposed to be: Normal, blank. Like it has always been since I can remember. When I finally have gone into REM, the deep sleep I usually slip into, I am suddenly awake.<p>

First I try to remember what I had been doing when I first went to sleep, or if I had sleep-walked, somehow. I know I'm wrong, though. I suppose it's that bit of human ignorance I have left in me that makes me second-guess myself in these situations. The only other option, I then realize, is that I'm dreaming.

It IS an odd thought, dreaming while knowing that I am dreaming. I believe that psychologists call it "lucid dreaming" but there is nothing I want to do in particular. I just observe my surroundings. The floor is checkered black-and-white, and there seem to be no walls at all. I look around. Nothing.

Then, a sound.

A scuffling sound, like shoes on a floor. So, I grow curious, and begin to walk towards the sound.

More scuffling ensues as I move foward, and I wonder if who (or what) is walking towards me. The noises growing louder proves that yes, I am correct. A black shoe comes into view, like the person in front of me had put their foot in front of them first, as a cautionary move. Then, white, and blue. The face of what I believe to be is a teenage male, is still shrouded in the shadow.

We stand in mutual silence, for a moment, and then his arms raise, crossing in front of him.

"Hm. That sucks."

I shake my head, waking from the silence.

"I look like a zombie. Who knew."

I keep silent, waiting for an explanation. It doesn't come, so i inquire myself.

"What do you mean?"

A sigh then, and the male moves into the light.

My body freezes then, as I recognize myself instantly.

Well, not myself, but my Somebody.

Isa.

His eyes, (MY eyes) blink, and I am startled by the color. A teal color, the hue my eyes had used to be, before the Darkness spread, before the Orginization. They aren't the sickening yellow that my own eyes are now, that remind me of an animal. They are innocent, serious, framed by long lashes that I lost when I "grew up".

"Well, I-Are you me, then?" He asks, serious eyes flashing for a second. I catch the emotion.

Disgust.

I don't react.

"Not entirely." I reply, looking down for the briefest of moments. He looks confused then, and tilts his head to the right. He is sizing me up, so it seems.

"That doesn't make sense. Of course you 're just..." He trails off. I don't have anything to say.

"Just?"

"So lifeless."

I try to pretend that this doesn't make my stomach drop, or that it makes my gloved hands break out in a cold sweat. I try to pretend it doesn't...bother me, that my own self just called the older version of itself "Lifeless".

Once again, I realize, I have nothing to say. There IS nothing to say.

Stepping foward, (he seems to look like he is feeling braver) he peers into my face.

"What happened to my eyes?"

I have no answer.

(I had wondered as well, in the beginning.)

"What about that scar?"

No answer, again.

(I had always thought that perhaps it had been from the Heartless attack.)

He steps back then, looking more confused than ever. His brows are furrowed; perhaps he is upset.

"What happened to ME?"

My throat closes up, and it is suddenly hard to breathe. He looks into my eyes, and then my chest begins to hurt as he looks into my own.

"I said, what happened to me?" His voice is shaky, and I feel sorry for him, the original, small me standing apart from myself. He is truly innocent, and his confusion is fading into anger, and perhaps sadness. On a whim, I reach out to him, for reasons I don't even know of, and he backs away. That makes my chest hurt more, and I let my hand drop. He stares at the hand, covered in a glove.

"I don't know."

I realize that that would be the first time that I admitted to not knowing something. In a way, it makes me feel weak and exposed, and I don't like it.

His eyes flash.

"You don't know? How can that even be?"

"I am sorry. I just don't know."

I could've explained the Heartless attack, but I didn't. How could I tell this innocent child, yes, child in my eyes, that darkness took his heart? Stole it from his carefree psyche?

"That doesn't make sense. How could something make me turn into you?" He emphasizes "you". My chest pain is growing unbearable.

"I don't know."

"What happened? Tell me!"

We stare at each other then, for what seems like hours. He is glaring at me, and I simply stare, hoping that at least something is showing in my eyes. I am not exactly liking the feeling that my own self finds me to be a "Zombie".

"You know."

"No, I don't!"

Contradicting. Perhaps he doesn't know, and the part about him wondering what happened wasn't fake. A horrible feeling in my stomach tells me that it wasn't acting at all.

"Darkness took you over. Took us over. That is all."

I hate the cold edge to my voice, and the brutality I have mixed in by blurting it out. Trying to be careful, more sensitive, obviously wasn't going to work. I wait for him to process the information, and his eyes seem to drain of all emotion at all, and I'm sure that if the color changed, he would look even more so like me.

"Darkness...?"

"Yes."

Another staring spell ensues, and his emotionless eyes start to burn. Not in literal means, but his eyes seem as if they could burn holes into my very being with the inensity of the glare. It is clear; he is angry. I wait for my little self to shout, perhaps throw a fit, but he doesn't. His cheeks flush, with effort not to raise his voice, I am guessing.

"Maybe, if that happened, I should've killed myself."

"What?"

"Maybe I'd be better off. The world doesn't need more darkness."

Kill myself?

"And I sure as hell don't want to become YOU."

What?

"Because a weak person allows that to happen to them."

His eyes are glassy, and I am completely frozen. I watch him reach into his pockets, and I stare at the sharp object in his hand.

A pocket knife, one I carried around during that time.

He flicks it open, blade grinning menacingly up at me. He looks back and forth, at me, the blade, me, the blade, and then, postions it lightly at a pale wrist.

"Well? Should I do it?" He stares at me, dragging it back and forth, not hard enough to cut.

"Aren't you being dramatic?"

I want to cringe as soon as the words leave my mouth.

His face, stony through whole knife ordeal, looks at me. It isn't anger in his eyes, though. In them lies pity.

"Not even enough emotion to keep me from harming myself. ...What did I become?"

He looks at the blade again.

"I've made up my mind then." He drops his hand from his wrist, and I think with relief that maybe he will simply walk away. Then, in horrifying revelation, I realize that he is rearing back. I lunge foward, grabbing for the knife, but I realize that it is too late, and in a flash of red, I wake up.

0-0-0

I stare at the little white scar that is barely an inch long, laying on my wrist. I am breathing heavily, shaken by this dream.

Darkness. Darkness.

My chest is hurting.

And right now, I am wishing that I had my childhood back, and that I wasn't Saix,

but Isa.

0-0-0

A/N: Wow...dramatic. I understand that the whole wrist-slashing thing was a bit dramatic for Isa and OOC, but in my mind, I think that's what Isa might've actually done to avoid himself from becoming an empty shell. I'm sorry for torturing your brain, Saix! D: I feel kinda bad now...  
>Review!<br>Please!  
>Review!<br>I learned the Matryoshka! DX Viewers: What does that have to do with anything?  
>Me: EVERYTHING! REVIEW!<p>

Thank you!

- - Yuki


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